


Following the Recipe

by author_abz



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 12:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/author_abz/pseuds/author_abz
Summary: Five times that JT and Tyson cook together, and one time they feed each other.





	Following the Recipe

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [oflights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oflights/pseuds/oflights) in the [AVSFAM](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AVSFAM) collection. 



> This is probably not as wonderful as the prompt has the potential to be. Sadly, that is my burden to carry. I hope y'all like what I was able to do.
> 
> Much love and many blessings to Emily and Molly for being idea sounding boards (and for the colorblind bit), and also to my love ashisfriendly for beta-ing and hand-holding so I have the confidence to post.

**i.**

 JT and Tyson can cook. They _can_ , and it’s not exactly hard to think of things to make with the team diet as a reference. But Kerfoot is really allergic to nuts and everything Biggie makes is always delicious _and_ sounds fancy when he describes it, so they start to get frustrated with their abilities pretty quickly. JT complains to Tyson about needing ideas, and Tyson complains to him about not knowing how to do much else besides boil water and grill. (“Okay, that’s really pathetic.” “I know.”)

 They google around on JT’s computer and stumble across a nearby community center cooking class. It’s at a time after they usually have practice and before they’d need to be at the rink for games. They glance sideways at each other, considering it. “We don’t have to go every week,” JT offers.

 “Yeah, and we can bail if it’s lame.”

 “Yeah.”

 They both shrug in noncommittal agreement before Tyson’s smile appears, lopsided on his face, making JT crack up and shove him off the couch.

 ---

The classroom they walk into is impossibly cramped and they struggle to find a countertop near what they think is the back. It’s only when their teacher turns to address the class that Jost turns to whisper in JT’s ear, almost frantically, “We’re the only dudes.”

 The teacher also notices, it seems, because when she looks over the small class, her eyes linger on JT and Tyson before she speaks. “I know you’re all beginners here, but I’m not here to teach you the basics. I trust you’re all adults -” again, her eyes linger on JT and Tyson, “so I can trust you to boil water and cut vegetables without hurting yourself right?” The class mostly mumbles in agreement, but JT just shrugs, catching Tyson’s eye. Tyson manages to turn his laugh into a moderately convincing cough, and JT claps him on the back with mock concern.

 Ms. Griswell - their teacher - goes around the room helping people turn on their countertop stoves and answering questions, but avoids their countertop altogether when she sees that JT turned it on before she got there. She ends up avoiding them for basically the entire lesson, so the only help they get is from the instructions she gives at the front of the classroom and the recipe she puts on the projector.

“Okay, so what does that say?” JT asks, squinting at the front of the room.

“I don’t know, her handwriting is awful,” Jost answers, setting some just washed mushrooms onto the cutting board next to their bell peppers and their whole onion. “So we have to cut these up, and they go….”

“Into the sauce, I think. Or they make the sauce? I just know the water is supposed to boil. That’s what I did.”

From the front of the room Ms. Griswell says, “So you should all have your vegetables cooking in the oil now, and you need to keep an eye on them so they don’t burn and they all cook evenly.”

JT looks over at Tyson, his eyes wide, “Uh, how good are you at chopping?”

Tyson shrugs at him and picks up the knife hurriedly. “I’m good enough to not cut my fingers off,” he says, nudging JT at the hip. “Do the oil thing and help me,” he whispers.

 JT does turn to the other pan they’ve been equipped with, then squints at the recipe up front and picks up every bottle in their ingredient pile at least twice before he decides he has the right one in hand and pours it in. By the time he’s done checking that the cooktop is actually getting warm, Jost has chopped the mushrooms into uneven chunks and is dropping them into the pan.

 JT tuts at him as he picks up an extra knife and crowds into his space, “You’re not good at chopping.”

As they both pick up a bell pepper to cut up, Jost snorts, “Oh _no_ I don’t know how to - hey,don’t chop the same thing I am - we don’t need two peppers.”

He lets out a laugh, “Yeah, but one’s green and one’s red, Jost.”

He pauses in cutting up his own pepper and looks over at JT, letting out a small sigh. “I’m colorblind, idiot.”

“Oh, right.” He bumps their hips together again and says, “Well, just cut up what I tell you and maybe we can eat soon.”

They cut up the few vegetables that they have as quickly as they can, ending up with large chunks of their peppers and only cutting up half of the onion as the room around them chats happily. JT tosses the last of their chopped vegetables into their pan and stirs a little frantically. Tyson looks around the room, peering awkwardly at everyone else’s station before ripping open the box of pasta and dumping it into the boiling water.

The instructor is walking around, talking about adding spices and sauce to the vegetables and getting ready to mix everything into the noodles, “They should be about done now!”

JT is nonchalantly stirring the vegetables, squinting up at the screen with the recipe and trying to surreptitiously add some, leaning awkwardly over Jost to grab three bottles of spice at once. Jost pushes him back a little as he’s stirring, grabbing another spoon and stirring the pasta, trying to squint at the clock.

Jost keeps knocking hips with JT as they stir their own pots, and after a minute or so they’re smiling. JT reaches over Jost again to grab the bottle of sauce when Jost casually says “This smells like shit.”

JT giggles and slops the sauce in with the vegetables, bumping back into Jost, saying “Shut up, you’re gonna eat it.” Which makes Jost giggle, and JT laughs again.

There’s a general commotion around the room as people go and grab plates, since according to the instructor, the food is supposed to be done. They both look around, and JT grabs plates quickly as Jost checks if the pasta is done. He glances at the clock after tossing three different pieces of pasta into his mouth and starts to use his spoon to ladle them out into the vegetables. JT reaches over him and grabs a different type of ladle with a hole in it and starts to pull out the noodles more efficiently.

Jost switches places with him entirely through hip-checking and stirs the noodles in with the sauce and giant chunks of vegetables. When they look up, everyone around them is sitting down at the tables on the other side of the room, eating and talking. Tyson turns around to look at the rest of the class, and then turns back to JT who’s hurriedly dishing the pasta onto their plates.

Grabbing a fork for both of them he swipes a few things aside and hops up onto the counter to sit. JT hands him his plate and leans casually next to him, accepting the fork he hands him with a smile. Josty awkwardly raises his own fork full of pasta, and JT follows suit. “Cheers,” they echo each other.

JT takes a bite first, Josty watching him, a smirk pulling at his mouth. Chewing, JT makes a face, narrowing his eyes at Jost. “Crunchy.”

Jost laughs, “Yeah,” and he takes his own bite and grimaces. “I told you it smelled bad,” he says with his mouth full.

They keep eating, making faces at each other between bites. Tyson sticks out his tongue full of half-chewed up food at one point, making JT snort so hard he has a small coughing fit. Still smiling, Tyson looks over to the rest of the class while JT wipes at his face and sees everyone starting to get up and clear their plates. He jumps down and unceremoniously tosses the rest of the pasta on his plate into the trash, and grabs JT’s plate out of his hand when he turns around.

“Are you offering to do dishes?” JT asks, grabbing all of their dirty utensils and tossing them into the pot that still has water in it.

“Well, you slaved over lunch, so that’s the deal, right?”

Tyson is brushing random crumbs off the counter and JT is putting the spice bottles upright where he thinks he found them when the teacher yells over everyone to indicate the spot where they’re supposed to put their dishes.

Jost piles up their pots and other dishes and takes them over to the giant wash station in the corner, a smirk on his face. He has to wait behind three other ladies all carrying large piles of dishes who are placing them carefully in the giant dishwasher. JT watches him, smiling, as the smirk slides off his face as the women around him start talking to him, charming, fake smiles on their faces.

The instructor’s giving instructions on how the next session will go and JT stops listening - they’re definitely not coming back here.

 

**ii.**

Most of the team is excited for the Superbowl. The Broncos aren’t in it this year, unfortunately, but it’ll still be a great game, and - as Jost keeps telling JT and Kerfoot - the _halftime show_. More importantly though, Gabe’s having people over to watch the game, and if the team Christmas party was anything to go off of, it’ll be a great day.

They’re not supposed to bring anything, Gabe told them, unless there was something they wanted to bring. Making up their grocery list, Kerfoot adds a container of premade cookies to their order, but JT fell into a superbowl recipe hole on pintrest while he was trying to find everyday recipes, and he adds at least ten items to the list.

\---

“I swear it’s easy, Tys,” JT says, getting a handful of crescent roll canisters out of the fridge and dropping them on the counter.

“If it’s so easy,” Jost says, leaning against the counter next to him, “then why do you need my help?”

“So we can get there before the first half is over,” he says dramatically, pulling out bags of vegetables and a giant bag of cocktail weiners.

Tyson rolls his eyes as JT reaches over him to turn the oven on. “We’ve got at least three hours before we’re supposed to be there.” He picks up a crescent roll container and starts to open it. “Four before kickoff.”

JT ignores him, pulling out a baking sheet and taking the now opened rolls from Tyson’s hands. He starts to open another one as JT unrolls the dough and puts it on the sheet. It only covers part of it, and he has his hands out expectantly when the canister pops open.

Josty watches JT lay out the dough, asking, “So we’re making really weird, fancy pigs in blankets?”

JT is pinching together the pieces of dough and he laughs, “No, we’re making regular pigs in blankets.”

“And a veggie tray?” Jost smirks.

“Veggie pizza,” he replies, putting the baking sheet in the oven and setting a timer. He smiles at Jost, reaching around him to grab a bag of carrots off the counter behind him. “Do you want to wash or chop?”

Jost takes the bag of carrots out of his hand, “I’ll wash.”

They form a small assembly line where Jost washes carrots, then broccoli, cauliflower, and two bell peppers, making a pile next to the cutting board JT is using. He’s not even done with half of the carrots when Tyson turns the water off and makes as though to leave the kitchen. JT makes a face, and Tyson turns, grinning before he comes back, tearing the cauliflower and broccoli apart into smaller pieces.

The timer goes off and Tyson turns away to take the sheet out of the oven. “Okay, so where’s the recipe? What else can I do?”

“You’re really not gonna help me chop the vegetables?” JT points his knife at him.

“No,” Tyson says, popping an unchopped carrot into his mouth.

JT sighs, “It’s on my phone, I’ll get it out in a second.”

Jost looks around the kitchen a minute, then looks around the living room and entryway before coming back, mumbling, “It’s in your pocket, duh,” and checking first JT’s back jean pockets and then his front, pulls out his phone from a front pocket.

The tops of JT’s ears go pink, but Tyson doesn’t notice, opening and closing apps on JT’s phone looking for and then finding the recipe. He pulls more things out of the fridge and starts assembling them in a mixing bowl. JT starts putting the cut vegetables in bowls and setting them next to Jost’s assembly on the counter.

“Big pieces of pepper or small ones?” JT asks, turning to the last things he has to cut.

“Are you sure this recipe is right?” Tyson asks, squinting between JT’s phone and the ingredients in front of him. “Shouldn’t it be like, sour cream, not cream cheese?”

JT comes to look at his phone over Tyson’s shoulder and shrugs. “I’m pretty sure. There were a couple different recipes I saw, and they all said cream cheese, and that’s what I bought, so.” He goes back to cutting up the peppers as Tyson frowns again at the recipe, but starts to add ingredients to the bowl, mixing them together.

JT’s cleaning off the cutting board, putting some uncut veggies in bags when Tyson turns to him, spoon in hand. “Does this taste right?” He swipes his index finger along the inside of the bowl and sticks it in his mouth as JT takes the spoon. “Is that how it’s supposed to taste or did I miss something?”

Spoon in his mouth, JT shrugs. “Tastes good to me,” he says then, throwing the spoon in the sink.

Jost shrugs too, “If you say so.”

They end up filling the dishwasher together while they wait for the croissant crust to cool, making space for the pigs in blankets. Tyson starts to open the other croissant canisters in the space next to the bag of cocktail weiners, but JT turns back to the crust and starts to spread the mixture Tyson made over it. He’s moved on to sprinkling chopped vegetables over top when Jost turns to him, dough spread out between his hands. “Do we have enough dough?”

JT looks up at him, “Yeah.” When Jost still looks dubious, JT grins at him, “The blankets are really small.” Hands full of broccoli pieces he nudges Jost with his elbows towards the other baking sheet and tells him, “Just put them there and start cutting them into strips.”

Jost gives a beleaguered sigh, “I guess I can do that.” And he does, as JT continues sprinkling handfuls of vegetables onto his pizza, and then more than a few handfuls of shredded cheese. He admires the effect for a long second, and turning to the other baking sheet sees Jost already rolling some of the cocktail weiners into their croissant dough blankets.

“Hey!”

“It is really easy,” Tyson says, a small smile playing the corners of his mouth.

“I _know_ it’s easy,” JT counters, bumping hips with Jost to make him slide over, picking up the discarded knife and cutting more dough slices.

Jost doesn’t reply, just pushing his hip back against JT, who doesn’t move. They stay like that, sides pressed together, and assemble the rest of the pigs in blankets quickly, unceremoniously shoving them in the oven as soon as they’re done. They consider leaving the mess of dishes and vegetable strewn countertop for Kerfoot to clean, but remember he’s next on dinner duty and could make something horrible on purpose, and they fill the dishwasher and trash can to capacity.

They’re done with several hours to spare before they leave for the superbowl party, but in the end JT only remembers he needs to cut up the veggie pizza as they’re grabbing everything to leave. He cuts it up quickly, and Tyson grabs a corner piece.

His mouth full he tells JT, “It’s not poisoned.”

"Good,” JT says, and takes the uneaten half out of Josty’s hand and shoves it in his own mouth. He tries to load the cut up pizza into a tupperware container Kerfoot found for him without getting vegetable chunks everywhere and nods. “It’s good, right?”

“Yeah, it’s good.” Tyson agrees.

And it is. They don’t get another piece of veggie pizza to eat, coming home with two empty containers that were full of pizza and pigs in blankets when they left.

 

**iii.**

“It’s a secret family recipe,” JT says for what feels like the hundredth time.

“But what’s it called?” Josty has been hovering around JT and asking him questions about the package he’s currently opening since it arrived.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then you won’t eat it, and it’s delicious, so you should.”

Jost lets out a low whine as he perches his chin over JT’s shoulder. The contents of the box are all spread out over the counter now and JT is reading the small note that came with it. “So why did your mom send you a blue apron box?”

JT lets out a sound somewhere between a huff and a sigh. “Because I told her about looking for recipes and she said my kitchen utensils must be lacking.”

“What?”

“You never chop vegetables,” JT says, reaching for something he had unboxed, “ _This_ is a chopper.”

Jost rolls his eyes, his chin still on JT’s shoulder. “So what are you making?”

JT doesn’t answer, just turns away to get some things out of the fridge and freezer, plopping them down on the counter next to the box Tyson’s now breaking apart. “Mom said any of these recipes should impress my girlfriend - or they’d be good to make as a date night.” He’s not looking at Tyson, just putting things his mom had sent into cupboards, leaving a few things out, putting the meat he had gotten out into the microwave to defrost.

“You didn’t tell her all you have are annoying teammates and roommates?” Tyson asks, smirking.

“Are you going to help?” JT says, looking at the recipe card he left out.

“Can I chop?” Tyson picks up the chopper, testing the handle in midair, pointed at JT’s face.

JT smiles, “Sure.” He reads out ingredients and amounts to Tyson as he gets out a mixing bowl and a pan, starting to mix things together. Tyson makes quick work of both the celery and onion he chops, his smile wide, smugly dropping each pile of vegetables into JT’s mixing bowl as he shreds bread into tiny pieces. He’s done chopping as JT throws the last piece of bread into the mixing bowl, and he leans against the counter with a tremendous grin on his face.

JT starts to mix everything in the bowl with his hands, telling Tyson to start the dishes. Tyson complains for a minute, watching JT, before he cleans off the bit of counter he used and puts things in the dishwasher. It takes him a little bit to figure out how to undo all the parts of the chopper, but JT only laughs at him until he gets it himself.

“Okay, what can I help with _now_?” Josty asks, pressing up next to JT and trying to snag the recipe card from where it sits on the counter, but JT boxes him out with his hips and elbows.

“Nothing. Go away, come back when it’s done.” JT says, forming the mix into balls and putting them in a pan.

“No, I’m helping.”

“Is the oven on?”

Tyson leans over to look, “Yes.”

“Then there’s nothing to do,” JT takes the last bit from the mixing bowl, makes it into a ball and puts it into the pan. “I just -” he takes one of the soup cans on the counter, opens it and pours some in the pan. Josty watches with his arms crossed as he fills the can with water and pours it in the pan, then opens another can and does it again.

He turns to wash his hands, “Oh, it needs to be covered, can you get the foil out?”

Josty rolls his eyes as he grabs the foil and pulls it over the pan, sticking it in the oven. JT watches him do it and sets the timer on his phone, then grabs the cans off the counter to throw them away. He’s grabbing the mixing bowl when Tyson’s arms wrap around his waist from behind, his lips resting against the skin of JT’s neck.

JT’s body relaxes, and a few seconds later he says, “They’re called porcupines, okay?”

Josty laughs reflexively, pulling away from JT, his voice bright as he teases, “Yum.”

 

**iv.**

“We’re making our own pizza?” Josty asks as he walks into the kitchen, beaming at JT.

“If you want to, it’s _your_ birthday.” In hindsight, JT thinks it’s kind of a stupid idea, but he’s glad Josty likes it.

“What toppings do we have?” Josty looks around at the counters and then opens the fridge to look.

“Cheese, pepperoni, sausage, but we can probably add some veggies, too - it’s whatever you want…” JT trails off, re-opening the fridge for the specific ingredients he bought ahead of time. Kerfoot yells something from the living room, and JT adds, “Kerfy thinks this is stupid, so he’s ordering pizza.”

Josty laughs and says very loudly, “He should order garlic bread, too!” He starts opening the ingredients JT got out, popping a pepperoni into his mouth and Kerfoot yells something back. “So do we get to toss pizza dough in the air?” Tyson asks as JT turns the oven on.

“Uh, no -” JT says awkwardly, “I looked up the recipe and you have to use yeast and let it rise and shit, so I just got a premade one.”

“Oh, okay,” Tyson says, now dropping handful of cheese into his mouth as he leans against the counter.

JT unwraps the premade pizza crust and nods Tyson to bottles sitting behind him. “Pick your sauce.”

He turns, then laughs, “Alfredo? Did you want - ?”

JT cuts him off, “Some people use alfredo sauce! But there’s tomato sauce there too.” He puts the just freed pizza crust on a baking sheet and looks expectantly at Tyson.

He’s holding both bottles of sauce in his hands, looking back and forth between them as a smirk grows on his face. “Can we use both?”

“Like mix them together?” JT makes a face.

“Or a half and half pizza.” He raises his eyebrows.

JT shrugs, “If you want - it’s _your_ -”

“Will you eat any of the alfredo side?” Tyson asks impatiently, setting the tomato sauce back down.

He takes a moment to think about it, “Depends what toppings we use.”

Tyson looks again at the sauce in his one hand and the pepperoni he picked up with the other. “Okay, maybe just cheese over the alfredo.” He eats the pepperoni slice and opens the sauce, dumping a lot out onto the pizza crust. “Whoops,” he says casually, taking his index finger and starting to spread out the sauce over just half of the crust.

JT pointedly gets a large spoon out of a drawer, then opens the tomato sauce bottle, carefully spooning out and then spreading the sauce with it.

Tyson happily finishes spreading sauce with his finger before meeting JT’s eye and licking the sauce off, smirking. “It’s _my_ birthday.”

Done spooning out sauce himself, JT coughs a little, sounding strangled, and turns away unnecessarily to grab the large bag of cheese.

They add cheese to the pizza in liberal amounts, then basically dump all of the sausage onto the tomato sauce side, and grabbing the pepperoni package, discover that it’s empty. Tyson gets to look crestfallen for all of half a minute before JT goes to the fridge and grabs another package of pepperoni and tosses it to him. They end up eating about half the second package too as they place the other half on the side of the pizza already full of sausages.

JT adds a bit more cheese and Tyson steals a few more pepperoni off of the pizza before it goes into the oven, and by the time it comes out, the pizza Kerfoot ordered has also arrived.

They eat a fair quantity of the pizza and garlic knots Kerfoot ordered, but they start and finish by eating a piece from the pizza they constructed themselves, and not a single slice is left.

 

**v.**

JT wakes up to the sounds of someone banging pots and pans around, which seems to say that Kerfy is up and making something complicated. Except now that he’s awake, JT can feel and see that the bed is empty next to him and the room around him is much more disheveled than he’s used to, so maybe not.

He walks into the kitchen in his boxers, yawning, and sees Josty at the stove, intent on his pan, a mess of dishes already surrounding him. “What are you doing?”

Jost turns, a sheepish look on his face. “G’morning,” he mumbles and he takes a half step toward JT before turning back to scowl at the pan on the stove. “I’m making pancakes.”

JT scans the living area beyond the kitchen and then steps up behind Tyson, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Smells like you’re burning pancakes.”

Tyson scoffs, “Yeah, I did burn the first two, but - ”

“I didn’t even know we had pancake mix,” JT mumbles into Tyson’s shoulder.

“We don’t, I made the batter from scratch,” Tyson picks up the spatula and flips the pancake in the pan over. It’s now a pancake sized blob, instead of a circle, and it’s closer to black than brown in color. “ _Damnit_.”

JT places a light kiss at the junction between Tyson’s shoulder and neck, then lets go, turning down the flame on the stove and taking the spatula from Tyson’s hand to remove the burned pancake from the pan and toss it in the trash.

Tyson reaches for the mixing bowl and starts to pour batter in the pan again. JT starts to say something, almost reaching for his hands, but there’s no more batter in the bowl. There was just enough batter left to make a mini pancake, and Jost immediately reaches for the spatula still in JT’s hand.

“No, wait, it’ll just be a mini pancake.”

“A mini burned pancake?” Tyson scowls at it, and JT laughs.

“ _Wait_ ,” he says in what Jost obviously feels is a condescending tone, as he opens his mouth at once to object, but JT closes his mouth with his own. He also wraps his arms around Josty again, but from the side and around his chest to shut down his arms, still holding the spatula.

Tyson returns the kiss for a second, then pulls away and scowls at the tiny pancake in the pan. JT moves them a little so he can watch the pan easier. They wait what feels like an eternity, just watching the little blob of batter to see what it would do before JT, mumbling something about bubbles, takes his spatula hand and flips it over. The mini pancake is the correct shade of golden brown. Not long after, JT flips it onto a paper towel and insists that Tyson eat it.

He takes the smallest of bites and hands it over to JT, who eats it in one.

“The batter’s good, you should make some more,” JT says through the pancake in his mouth.

And Tyson does, pulling out his phone once JT lets him go, measuring ingredients, tossing and pouring them into the mixing bowl haphazardly. JT takes the opportunity to pull out some bacon and a new pan and starts to fry it.

By the time Kerfoot gets up, roused by the smell of breakfast, both JT and Tyson have shirts on due to hot bacon grease incidents, and they also have a neat stack of golden brown pancakes to share.

  
****\+ i.** **  

“Da da da da!” Josty proclaims, walking grandly back into his room in a sleep shirt and boxers, holding, “Birthday cupcakes!”

He doesn’t pass them to JT who’s already sitting at the headboard, instead hopping into bed and wiggling back towards JT, the cupcakes held high.

For his part, JT just watches him struggle a little bit, a small smile on his face as he clicks aimlessly through channels. When Tyson’s wiggles get him back to the headboard JT turns off the tv as he presents the cupcake grandly to him.

“We both had a cupcake at dinner, y’know.” JT says dryly, watching Tyson’s face.

“You’re allowed to have more than one, it’s _your birthday_.” And Tyson swings the cupcake toward his face again, and it goes a little too far, getting a smudge of multi-color frosting on his nose.

JT doesn’t even get out a reply to having baked goods smashed into his face before Tyson sets the cupcakes on both JT’s lap and the blankets, carefully wiping the frosting off and holding it in front of JT’s face. “This is yours.”

For a second’s hesitation, JT glances between Tyson’s finger and his face before he leans forward to lick the frosting off of his finger. He laughs a little, but Tyson’s smiling smugly, so JT picks up one of the cupcakes and swipes his finger across the frosting to hold it up in front of Tyson’s mouth.

Tyson’s smirk grows wider and he doesn’t look away from JT’s face as he slowly sucks the frosting off of JT’s finger. JT’s smiling now too, even as his hands fall back to the cupcake in his hands and he takes off it’s liner. “These are really good,” he says, lifting the cupcake up to Tyson’s face.

“Yeah, they are,” Tyson says, taking a large bite and getting frosting all over his mouth and nose. JT’s free hand is already against the side of Tyson’s face, but Tyson lifts the other cupcake up in front of JT. He takes a bite mostly off of the top of the cupcake, and there’s frosting all around his mouth and nose now, but he’s chuckling even as he chews.

“You’ve got something, y’know,” he indicates vaguely to Tyson’s face with his cupcake hand. “Want me to help you get it?”

Tyson smirks, leaning in, “You’ve got something there too, you look ridiculous.” And they kiss, smearing frosting everywhere, cupcakes mostly forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> An absolute must reference - where JT and Tyson actually DO [feed each other.](https://twitter.com/eknielsen/status/931207662309650433)
> 
> Both veggie pizza and porcupines are recipes that are in my own family recipe box, and it's true that there's never any left over veggie pizza when you take it to a party and porcupines are indeed delicious. I googled everything else.
> 
> Oh, and, uh.... yes, the pancake bit was 100% inspired by that Gabe video where he makes pancakes. I mean.... how could it not be?


End file.
